Resident Evil: Absolution
by Repentant Wrecker
Summary: Post-RE6. The dust has settled and the day is won, but a new threat lurks in the shadows, unseen by all. From these same shadows, a collection of past heroes and villains rise to combat the enemy and stop this latest bio-terrorist threat.
1. Prologue

**6:47 AM, July 24****TH****, 1998**

The forest loomed before him, dark even in the morning light.

Yet for Billy Coen, former soldier turned death-row inmate, it was the first step for a new journey.

It wasn't every day that a man got a new lease on life, after all.

Idly whistling, he shouldered his way through the undergrowth. Rebecca would be fine (hopefully), and he'd be halfway to the next state by the time anyone (if they didn't believe her 'report') bothered to start looking for him. He'd need to make a false identity, make a cover story, but that was in the future. For now, simply putting as much distance between Raccoon City and himself was the only attainable goal.

A low growling caught his attention. Out of the forest, a Doberman trotted out. The decayed flesh and clouded eyes clearly marked it as an undead creature. With a snarl, it bared gleaming white fangs at the ex-con.

The ex-con that had trawled his way through zombies, mutant insects, undead primates, and leech men to name a few. Billy unsheathed his knife, his other hand reaching for his sidearm.

"Bring it, Snoopy."

**(***)**

**5:12 AM, October 1****st****, 1998**

The mission had been simple; to eliminate any evidence of Umbrella's involvement in the outbreak by any means necessary.

Of course, things had gone FUBAR the minute they entered the godforsaken city.

Their current transports would have been condemned to the scrapheap _before _the outbreak. But even in their current state, they were worth their weight in gold to the occupants.

Four vehicles carried twelve through the outskirts of Raccoon City, rushing past the dead and devastation. Twelve people, two squads, six to each. Soon, they had cleared the suburbs; they slowed for nothing. The military made it abundantly clear that they needed to flee and they listened.

The Wolfpack had been left to die by their employers. Echo Six had extended an offer.

It had been accepted.

The radio crackled to life. _"All units, put your ankles in it! You have less than an hour until impact!"_

Raccoon City's death would come with the dawn.

And the Wolfpack vowed that Umbrella would be next.

**(***)**

**4:50 AM, January 15****th****, 1999**

"Hey, y'hear 'bout this 'Mr Death' guy?"

"Heh. Who hasn't?"

"I heard that the suits blame him for Raccoon and Rockfort."

"No shit? How the hell did that happen?"

"Guy was on Rockfort when the outbreak happened. Everyone died 'cept him and then when he made it back to Headquarters, they heard his report and then clapped him in irons 'cos he failed to defend the facility."

"What about Raccoon, then? Thought he completed that op?"

"Yeah, he brought back whatever it was they wanted, but I heard from Donny that the head honcho labelled him a liability because the whole outbreak started with his team. He said that if they'd been better at follow-up, the whole mess wouldn't have broken out."

"Meh. Whatever. Think he really is all that?"

"What? Human Unit Never Killed? I bet whenever he went out into the field, he hid behind everyone else, let them do the legwork, and then killed them so he could take the credit. I mean, no one's actually _that_ good, right?"

"Yeah. No one."

"Well, he doesn't have much longer anyways. 'Mr Death' is gonna be facing his own end in a few days. The suits are using him as a scapegoat."

"That's got to hurt but you know them. No matter how good you are, you're still expendable. Victor told me he's in this cellblock actually."

"No way!"

"Not making this up. Uh, speaking of Victor, wasn't he supposed to report in. like, five minutes ago?'

"Pfft. That's the vets for you. Always thinking they can just unload the work on us. Seriously, they work this gig for a few years longer than us and think they can just skive off and make us put the effort in."

"Shh!"

"What?"

"I thought I heard something."

"The hell?"

"Wait…wait…okay, false alarm."

"Well that's just –"

"Arrgh..!"

"Oh shit! You killed Kenny! You bastard – urk…"

"…"

"…"

"…incompetent…"

**(***)**

After the Raccoon trials, all holdings of the Umbrella Corporation related to the development of B.O.W.'s were seized and purged of their occupants with the co-operation of the FBI, the US Army, and the assistance of foreign nations.

One such facility had contained Tyrant-class B.O.W.'s, and was immediately marked for termination. This particular lab had also been used in the creation of the 'Nemesis', and its 'brothers' had been housed in the facility.

Had an inventory been found, the military might have discovered that a pod containing such a creature had disappeared. Alas, they did not.

And so, one B.O.W. escaped the purge.

**(***)**

**4:29 AM, September 23****rd****, 2005**

Everything _hurt_.

She was _thirsty_.

She was _scared_.

The ship had shifted, and she clawed her way up the upward slope of the hall. Gunfire and explosions sounded off in the distance and she instinctively followed it through the halls. Noise meant people and people meant warm, _tasty _blood. But they also meant _pain_, and she cringed as she half-remembered the healed-over wounds. Ultimately, the desire for blood won out, and she finally pulled herself out through a doorway leading to the deck.

The cool sea breeze washed over her, and for a moment she stood stock still, savouring the fresh air on her flesh after the stuffy confines of the ship. The gunfire was closer now but the roars of something far larger reverberated through the air. _'Bigger predator,' _a voice in her head hissed before a tentacle larger than she smashed into her side, propelling her into the sea.

The water was freezing, and she thrashed in terror as the cold enveloped her. She was sinking, and the small part of her that was still _human_ cried out.

'_Please…someone help…I don't want to die…'_

And then, in the last moments before her mind shut down and she sank to the depths, Rachael Foley felt her body _react_.

**(***)**

**6:38 AM, July 2****nd****, 2013**

Haos was dead. Captain Redfield was alive.

And he himself would soon die too.

Piers Nivans didn't regret his choice. When the end came in the form of light and fire, he did not flinch.

The underwater facility was no more.

But something, or rather some_one_,survived.

**(***)**

**8:00 PM, July 15****th****, 2013**

They assembled in a darkened boardroom around a circular table. Five members from around the world, all in positions of power, and all with the same goal in mind. Their influence was considerable when put together, and the fact was not lost upon them.

After all, how could their organisation stay under the radar for so long without it?

One stood from her chair. "It is my pleasure," she addressed her compatriots, "to preside over the twenty-fifth meeting of the Council of Five." She tapped a button on the table to present a hologram displaying the blue and white crest of a greyhound and rifle.

"All hail Neo-Veltro."

**(***)**

The die has been cast.

The board has been set.

Game on.


	2. Meetings Both Good & Ill

"All hail Neo-Veltro."

With this, it went down to business.

"How are our 'investment opportunities' progressing?"

Her addressee, a rangy man of South American descent, spoke next in heavily accented English. "My men have confirmed that there are currently six buyers looking to negotiate with us. They have all passed the initial security screening, so things look promising. Still, we will need their backgrounds and identities fully checked before our 'products' are displayed."

The third, a lean European, nodded sharply. "Send me the information. My men will screen them with the Interpol database and collaborate their trustworthiness."

"It shall be done."

The fourth occupant ran a hand through pixie-cut hair. "The B.S.A.A. is co-ordinating efforts in Edonia and China as we speak. The European Branch has been called to reinforce Lanshiang thanks to the outbreak wiping out a number of squads. They are currently en route and ETA is estimated six hours. We will have to move quickly to secure a sample of C before they further secure the city."

A nod from the first. "That will be brought up later. For now, we must address the issue of Neo-Umbrella."

A derisive snort from the fifth. "Idiots. They would have ruined the damn planet merely for their own amusement. Tell me, what steps are being taken with the survivors?"

"The majority have been arrested by the B.S.A.A. and are awaiting trial for 'crimes against humanity'. Our agents within the Research division have 'convinced' some key personnel to jump ship and begin employment with us. There are a few unaccounted for by the B.S.A.A. but our own resources are being used to ensure they will not be causing trouble for anyone. With permission from the rest of the Council, I would like to employ a third party to eliminate this threat while retaining our deniability. Rest assured, they will be promptly dealt with once the mission is complete."

"I agree."

"Aye."

With the others' agreement, the European grinned. "The ideal candidate has been located. Apparently, he and Ginovaef knew each other during their days in Umbrella's employ. His skills and experience are considerable, and thanks to his lack of connections, it will be easy to dispose of him with no trouble."

A smile from the fifth. "May I ask the parameters of his briefing?"

"The partial truth; that they are terrorists that influential people want dead."

"Fair enough."

The South American spoke again. "What is the situation in Edonia? Have our agents secured the sale?"

The pixie-cut woman pulled a sheet of paper from her briefcase. "The government has agreed to the purchase of a half-dozen Hunters and two-dozen Lickers to hunt down what remains of the rebel forces. The control chips have ensured complete obedience to their objectives and all units have been declared ready to ship by the Production team. Presently, our agents have destroyed any trace of our presence and have constructed cover stories and excuses for our customers. Our last mutual contact will be the drop-off."

"Excellent. If we may return to the C situation?"

Sighing, the European clasped his hands. "I sent a team of our most trusted men to assist our local agent in retrieving the sample from the drop point. The district in question is lightly guarded by Terrasave security. Even if our agent is noticed, it is doubtful that they are trained well enough to capture him."

The fifth frowned thoughtfully. "It is a shame that the upgraded version of C has been lost. Are you positive we have no way of gaining even the smallest sample?"

The pixie-cut woman shook her head. "Simmons and Radames were both killed and their bodies disposed of. We could attempt to retrieve Muller for his blood but his recent association with both the DSO and BSAA prevents an abduction without suspicion. From Captain Redfield's report, Piers Nivans willingly infected himself with the only remaining sample of the virus to stop the creature known as 'Haos' before perishing in the resultant explosion. His remains might be drifting but it is a slight chance at best, and our current resources are being funnelled in other directions at present. For now, we will make do with the bog-standard C."

A sigh. "Even as you say."

The European lay his hands flat on the table. "What about A? His skills..."

"Are off the table." The first woman scowled. "We will not fall prey to the traps others fell to. A is far too much of a wildcard. His intelligence is without question, but I have no desire to be stabbed in the back by a nut-job with a god-complex."

"Actually-"

She waved a hand. "I know, I know. It's just that all Umbrella types crack in some form or other. Ginovaef has proven that, no?"

There were murmurs of agreement. She stood once more.

"I declare the twenty-fifth meeting of the Council of Five to be over. Thank you for your time. I trust that our next meeting will bring only fortuitous news. All hail Neo-Veltro!"

"All hail Neo-Veltro!"

**(***)**

**7:30 AM, July 16****th****, 2013**

"Oi, Billy! Get your ass over here!"

"Got it, Chief!"

William 'Billy' Cullen, formerly known to the public as Billy Coen, grumbled under his breath as he made his way over to his commanding officer. "Yes, Chief?"

His superior grinned at him. Rowen 'Chief' Grendel was a fair but hard man, and Billy could honestly say that as a superior he wasn't too bad. Certainly better than his CO in the military.

Despite this, Chief seemed to make life miserable for the 'new meat', despite the half-decade of experience that Billy had accumulated working for Terrasave Security Division. This was because the ex-con had been forced to transfer to his squad for the Lanshiang clean-up and aid relief. Hence, Chief ensured that Billy got the harder assignments as some form of 'hazing'.

In the middle of post-outbreak Lanshiang, this was usually just guard duty in the most boring spots. Even so, Billy was getting tired of just standing in the sun for hours on end while the others actually got to work, even if said work was just guarding the temporary clinics.

Chief pointed over the bay. "We need someone to watch over the ruins of A Er restaurant at the riverside. Guard rotation says it's you, Cullen. So get your ass moving!"

"Yes, sir!"

Chief's grin stretched wider. "Do this one right, Cullen, and maybe I'll shout you a drink if I'm feeling generous."

"Thank you, sir!"

"Hmmph. Alright, move out!"

**(***)**

"-goddamn patronising sonavabitch!"

Billy didn't mind the inevitable hazing but he certainly hated the damn assignments. Seriously? Watching over a wrecked restaurant was the best they could give him?

Arrgh. So, so annoying.

Billy didn't like to brag, but he was a _vet_. He'd fought his way out of the Arklay Mountains and the _wonderful_ trip through the forest. Then after joining Terrasave, he'd gone on to do tours in the Eastern Slav Republic and Tall Oaks amongst others. To put it bluntly, he'd earned the right to a little danger. Even if his record had some 'suspicious' gaps in it, he'd proved himself to the TSD.

Meh. No point complaining here. He'd just file a complaint to the higher-ups after his present assignment.

The ruins of the restaurant were in sight, and Billy resigned himself to six hours of resolutely watching _nothing_.

Until he spotted a slight form rushing over to the remains.

Oh boy.

"Excuse me," he cried out in his official 'Authoritarian' voice. "This is a restricted zone! Please show some identification, or otherwise please leave the area!"

They took no notice of him. Great. Probably didn't speak English.

"Look, buddy, I get it; you've got some business here. I can't just let you roam around though. If you come with me, maybe we'll –"

The figure had grabbed a briefcase buried under some rubble.

A briefcase with the Neo-Umbrella icon emblazoned on the front.

Oh, _hell_.

"On the ground!" He snarled as he readied his M4 at his target. Anything that had _that _icon on it was nothing but trouble, and Billy wasn't going to see any more happen to this city while it was down.

The figure pointedly ignored the command and slunk back towards the alleyways. It was a goddamn maze in there, and Billy knew that there'd be no way to catch him once he reached them.

Only one thing for it then.

He started to sprint forward. "Command, this is Cullen!" He snarled into his radio. "Potential bio-hazardous material located at A Er! Requesting immediate assistance!"

Nothing but static. Of _course_.

The potential hostile was running in earnest, evidently planning to elude his pursuer and make off with his prize. Not on his watch. Just as he ducked into the alley, Billy stormed up to it himself. Finely tuned instincts, the kind only a soldier gained after years of experience, screamed at him to duck; he did so, and the handgun rounds sent his way missed his head. Things were serious now.

Snarling, he picked himself up and continued the chase. The little bastard was fast and knew how to duck and weave through the cramped alleys, but Billy was nothing if not tenacious. If anything, the briefcase was weighing down the man and making it easier to close the distance.

Finally, Billy saw his chance. The hostile slipped on a piece of trash in his path, and despite immediately righting himself, gave the soldier time to slam his shoulder into him. With a snarl, he slammed him into the wall, knocking his head against it while he was at it. The briefcase fell from suddenly lax hands and Billy grabbed it before it hit the ground.

"Command, I have both the suspect and the potential bio-hazard in custody. Requesting assistance in securing both, over."

Static again. What the hell was going on?

"Command! This is Cullen! Do you read me?"

"Ah, they ain't gonna hear you."

Oh, _shit_.

Six of them. Uniforms with gas masks and some insignia on the shoulder. P90's in hand and all pointing at him. Yep, this was bad.

The leader, easily the largest in the unit, shook his head slowly. "You got spunk but, being totally honest here, you've messed with the wrong guys. Shoulda just stayed within your paygrade, pal." He jerked his head at his men. "Take him out."

Two of them holstered their P90's and made to grab his shoulders. Before they could, Billy sprang into action. Whipping the briefcase to the side, he caught the one on the right on the head before throwing a right hook into the second's face. Before they could recover, he brought the briefcase down on both of them, sending them to the ground.

'_Damn straight.'_

The commander sighed. "Guess you get what you paid for," he groused out as he motioned for the others to step forward. "Couldn't just make it easy for us, could you, shitstain? Let's see how you like _these_ odds."

Billy slammed the briefcase into the nearest guy before kicking him in the family way. While he stumbled back in pain, the ex-con elbowed his buddy in the ribs and followed up by throwing his head against the wall. Alas, it was three on one, and the third kicked hard into the back of his knee.

Damn it, that hurt.

The first, now recovered, grabbed the now open Billy's shoulder and yanked him to the ground roughly. Billy barely had time realise it before a booted foot slammed repeatedly on his chest. Struggling, he tried to pull himself back to his feet until the third kicked his head repeatedly. "How do you like that, you bastard!?"

The second wrenched the briefcase from Billy's hand before presenting it to his commander. He accepted it without a word and looked down at Billy. "Well, you put up a good fight if nothing else," he chuckled in amusement, "but like I said, you should have bowed out when you had the chance." He gestured to his subordinate. "The jammer won't be working for much longer, so cap this prick and let's…" He paused briefly, looking down at Billy. "Sven," he barked, "pull him up!"

"Sir, I – "

"Pull him up now!"

"Ah, yes sir!"

Billy was pulled to his feet, and the commander grabbed his chin, examining his face. Though he couldn't see his eyes, Billy had a feeling that he was being scrutinised closely.

"Heh. Heh heh heh. Pffthahahah! Oh, this…this is goddamn gold!"

"Sir?"

"We take him with us."

"But, sir-"

"But nothing! This joker's coming with us. I'll let Command know we got a high-profile prisoner."

"But protocol-"

"Screw protocol! I've got my reasons, and I'm sure Nicholai of all people will get it. He'll keep the Five off our backs. Now, Jameson, if you'd be so kind…"

He turned back to the barely conscious Billy. "Oh, it's been such a long time since Africa, eh Coen?"

'_Wait….oh crap…'_

The last thing Billy felt before he blacked out was the butt of a P90 slamming into his head.

**(***)**

Somehow, he'd survived the explosion.

_Barely_.

The C must have been strong enough bring him back from the brink of death. Not much farther though.

It had been cold and dark in the depths. He'd been drowning, on death's door again and too weak to do anything about it.

And then something had grasped his still half-alive body and pulled him to the surface.

He didn't know how much time had passed. The only thing he felt for what felt like an eternity was the ocean around him and the sun above him. Occasionally, his floating hand would drift and he felt soft hair through his fingers.

His vison was still poor. All he could see was brightness. His body needed time to catch up on all the damage he'd taken, and he felt so damn tired. He wanted to just curl up in bed and sleep

He wished he had the strength to thank his rescuer.

After a while longer, he felt ground, no, sand under his body. Dimly, he registered being pulled up the beach, away from the surf that washed over him.

And before Piers Nivans finally passed out, he caught a glimpse of blond hair and a _tail _leaning over him in the morning sunlight.


	3. Agent, Captain, BOW

**(A/N: **A big thank you to MaloKen 17/ Ky-Outlawswordsman for their work 'Saving Piers' on deviantART which inspired the fic and for creating the cover image.)

**8:16 PM, August 24th, 2013**

"And you're certain the room is secure?"

"Affirmative, sir. Jensen and I are outside the door as we speak. Smith and Kimball are rechecking the security room, but they confirmed that the add-ons to the cameras are working. A few bribes here and there and the staff were more than happy to let us do our thing. Our communications suite is locked down, and I just checked the encryptions."

"Check again!"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Check again! I am dissatisfied with your performance, Captain. When I hired you, I was assured that you would perform to the highest standards, and so far I have yet to see anything beyond mediocrity! Continue down your current path, and your pay check is slashed in half. Are we clear?"

"…yes, sir."

"Excellent."

**(****)**

Idiots. He could hear everything. SPECTRE-Tech at its finest.

He'd have to thank Vector for the little gift later.

The target: Caulder Berith. A former Neo-Umbrella scientist, renowned cruelty and sadism in his experimentation. He was wanted by both the BSAA and his employers for his crimes, but he was crafty, easily slipping through their net and forging a false identity to operate under.

But HUNK was craftier still. Despite his intelligence, Caulder was arrogant, and while properly paranoid, had slipped up by choosing a five-star hotel as a hideaway. HUNK had been silently tracking him for three weeks, and he honestly couldn't believe that the man thought he could get away from the people that wanted him dead by hiding in a private hotel that merely had a high tech security system.

After the operations Umbrella had him pull, this was an _insult_.

The target's room was located on the fifth floor. Two guards were still in the security room while two remained outside the hotel room. Caulder had set a rotation every two hours, the latest of which would occur in thirteen minutes. The man himself would partake of a bath at 8:30 like clockwork, during the changeover.

This operation had to be played smart. The goons and Caulder himself were no threat, but HUNK had no desire for his presence known to the general public. As far as the world was concerned, HUNK was dead and gone, a misconception he was loath to break.

Hence, the materials for the plan. A splice controlled by remote control connected to the power for the block and the hotel's emergency generator. A SPECTRE-Tech voice modifier. A short range communications jammer. And of course, a stealth camouflage system.

The operation would commence in approximately three minutes.

Time to get to work.

**(****)**

The loading dock was the first stop. Access was easy enough. HUNK merely had to pick the lock and he was in.

The next step: the elevator. Caulder had reserved the entire floor, so it was doubtful that anyone else other than the guards would be there to get in the way.

Just the way he liked it.

**(****)**

"_Hey, Boss?"_

"Yeah?"

"_We're done in the security room. Heading back to the elevator."_

"Move it. Our employer's getting antsy again. I swear, this is the last time we ever…"

**(****)**

Wait for it. _Wait for it._

"_Alright, boss. In the lift now."_

Time to activate the splice.

The hotel primarily ran on the same power grid as the rest of the block, though there was an emergency generator prepared in the event of a blackout.

HUNK had of course taken the time to sabotage _both_.

The effect was instantaneous.

Throughout the whole hotel, power shorted out. Appliances stopped running, computers and phones shut down.

And most importantly, the lights and elevators cut out.

**(****)**

"Shit! Smith, Kimball, report!"

"_We're fine, sir. We're just stuck in the elevator. Power's out."_

"You think I don't know that? Arrgh….Jensen."

"Yes, sir?"

"Go downstairs and see if the hotel staff can do anything. I'll stay here and make sure Caulder doesn't lose his shit."

**(****)**

Perfect. The second guard walked down to the stairwell, completely unaware of HUNK's presence lurking in the shadows.

The jammer was activated next. Another SPECTRE-tech design, it was able to switch between frequencies and block communications one-way. As an infiltration tool, it was worth its weight in gold.

HUNK couldn't allow the captain to alert Caulder while he was…disposed of.

Activating the stealth camo, he crept down the hall towards the captain. The fool wasn't even paying attention to his surroundings, focusing his complete attention on his 'malfunctioning' radio.

"Sir? Sir! Can you hear me?"

Those were his last words. HUNK grabbed his neck and quickly snapped it. Catching the body before it hit the ground, he switched the jammer to the second frequency. No need for to alert Caulder if one of the others radioed in.

"Captain? Captain! Answer me, damn it!"

Speak of the devil.

"I'm here, sir" he intoned through the voice modifier. "There's been a power outage-"

"I know that, you fool! What are you doing about it!?"

"My men were returning from the security room when the power went out. I've sent Jensen to go help extract them. If you wish, I can keep guard in your room until they return."

"Yes, very well. Get in here. And be cautious! I have a feeling that this is an orchestrated event."

How right he was. Procuring the key card to the door, HUNK silently dragged the body through the threshold before just as quietly locking the door. If all went well, there wouldn't even be a scream.

The sound of splashing came from the bathroom. Evidently, Caulder had no interest in wasting his bathwater even in a power outage. Fine by HUNK.

The scientist grunted as the door opened. "What is it-"

HUNK wasted no time. Grabbing his target's neck, he snapped it in one fluid motion. Clean kill once again. The body slumped into the bathwater, and HUNK ignored it with dispassion honed from experience.

Time to begin the exit. The voice modifier was activated again. "Jensen, get back here. The client's shitting himself senseless over the blackout. I need you here to help calm him down."

"What about Smith and Kimball?"

"We'll buy 'em a brew or two later as an apology. Besides, they're big boys. They can handle an out-of-order elevator. Now, hurry it up, would you? Caulder's on the verge of a panic attack."

"Ah, really Chief? Seriously, this guy's just…. Alright, I'll be back in a minute."

A minute was all he needed. The captain's body was unceremoniously dragged into the bathroom and placed beside the final resting place of the target. After that, Hunk activated the jammer again, this time on Jensen's frequency. No chances were being taken, not this far in the game. Positioning himself behind the bathroom door, he awaited what would be the last kill of the night.

He didn't wait long. Tensing like a predator waiting to strike, he heard Jensen whistling as he strode through the doorway. Yet again HUNK moved in for the kill, and yet again a man died from a neck snap.

It was done. Clean-up and exfiltration were the only remaining tasks. Jensen's body was deposited with the others in the bathroom and the door to the room proper was locked securely on the way out. Power wouldn't be restored for another fifteen minutes, which gave HUNK plenty of time to vacate the building. Stealth Camo was engaged again, and the ex-Umbrella specialist snuck through the stairwell and out through the loading dock. Activating his com-link, he transmitted his message through the encrypted frequency that had been provided.

"This is HUNK. Mission complete."

**(****)**

**9:00 AM, July 16****th****, 2013**

He wasn't breathing.

That was not good.

She hadn't dragged him all this way for him to give up now.

Quickly, she checked his pulse. It was there, but barely. She needed to act fast before he faded.

CPR it was. Placing her hands on his chest, she started pumping with all her strength before enclosing his mouth with hers, pumping oxygen into his body.

It wasn't working. _Come on_.

He needed more oxygen, but how the hell was she-

Wait a second. She had a way it wasn't nice but it was a way.

With a groan, she split her head and unlatched her siphon. It was used to feed, but here and now, it had a different purpose. Clamping it over his mouth, she exhaled copious amounts of air into him while she inhaled through her 'regular' mouth.

Come on. Work. Breath. Live….._please_.

Her arms throbbed, her lungs burnt, but still she pressed on.

It would work. It had to work.

Then she felt a convulsion rush through his entire body. Then another, and she yanked the siphon off of him, withdrawing it back into her head. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment they held hers, before he heaved himself to one side and puked out seawater and blood.

Okay. He was up. That was good, but what did she do now?

**(****)**

Piers felt like death warmed over, but through some miracle he was alive. _He was alive_.

Groaning, he wiped his mouth and rolled back onto his back. The sun shone from up high and he covered his eyes with a hiss. Briefly, he heard something shift beside him and quickly rolled to the side, years of honed instincts urging him to move.

It was that figure from before, the one that had pulled him up the beach. Blond, with her hair tangling down her shoulders (which also seemed to be obscuring her eyes), and some kind of webbing covering her chest. A large red scar ran down the length of her right arm, and small spikes protruded from her upper forearms. Of course, all of this paled to the tail that made up her body from the waist down.

Were Piers more gullible, he would have called her a mermaid. As it was, he knew exactly what she was.

"B.O.W.!" He snarled and raised his arms in defence, intent on somehow warding off the creature. Then he noticed his arm. His twisted, C-Virus mutated arm.

Oh right, he was a B.O.W. too.

The unknown B.O.W. was smiling nervously now, gesturing to herself and then he in a primitive form of communication. It was obviously an attempt to calm him down.

If anything, it made him feel more unsettled. How the hell was there a B.O.W. that was _this _intelligent?

**(****)**

Was it working?

She wasn't sure, but she knew he was panicking. The best thing she could do was just make herself as non-threatening as she possibly could and hope he'd calm down.

He was staring at her, with his gaze switching back to his arm briefly as he raised it in some form of self-defence. She felt nervous now. What was he going to do? If he fought, she'd flee. No sense sitting around out of her element if things went violent.

They maintained eye-contact, scarcely breathing as the surf crashed around them. One of them would have to make a move eventually though, and the stand-off could go either way.

It was Piers that made that move. Stumbling slightly, he got to his feet and limbed up the beach, heading inland. He made no move to acknowledge his saviour, whom watched him leave with a morose look on her face. Slowly, she slid back into the sea, and with a flick of her tail disappeared back into the depths.

**(****)**

**10:30 PM, August 27****th****, 2013**

"One hundred and three, one hundred and four, one hundred and five…"

'_Take it slow, Billy. No rush, right?'_

That sadly was the truth. Ever since his imprisonment (the guards preferred to use the term 'forced guest'), there had been practically nothing for him to do other than work out and keep himself in shape.

As far as prisons went, it wasn't half bad. If anything, Billy had half-expected to be used in some weird 'experiment' (i.e. turned into some kind of monster or having to fight some kind of other monster) or otherwise thrown into a dank cell and left to rot. Instead, he'd been given a basic but decent room, three meals a day, and use of the facilities whenever he needed them. His captors had even included a TV with a DVD player and movies, though he couldn't connect to actual broadcasting and so was ignorant of the goings on in the world.

Despite the comparative luxury, it was still a prison. Billy darkly recalled trying to knock his guard out during a bathroom break and getting tazered for his trouble before being thrown into the cell for three days. The security cameras on the walls were another reminder and he'd already used up all the filthy gestures he knew earlier in the week, so that avenue of entertainment was out.

Hence, his work-out. A soldier had to keep himself in shape after all, and it at least made Billy actually feel like he was doing something productive with his time.

A knock on the door roused him from his musing, and just as he stood from his sit-ups, a squad of guards burst into the room. All armed and armoured to the teeth, ready to kill him at a moment's notice. Billy was obviously still considered a threat.

"_I'm goddamn fuckin' honoured.'_

"You're coming with us," the leader said as they spread out around him. "It's time for your…interview."

**(****)**

They led him to an actual boardroom, nicely furnished and smelling like it had just been cleaned. Whoever wanted to speak with him either found the idea of doing this interview 'the right way' funny or they genuinely thought that he was worth the effort.

Whatever. Billy just wanted to get it over with and then kick some ass.

After a half-hour of nothing but whistling, unanswered questions and complete boredom, he finally just gave up.

"Hey," he addressed the room at large, "are we actually going to do something, or am I stuck here twiddling my thumbs 'til judgement day?"

"Oh, we're gonna do something alright, Billy boy."

'_Oh, shit…_'

The officer from Lanshiang stood in the doorway, with one major difference; a lack of headwear, allowing Billy to see a face that he'd hoped never to look upon again. And one that he'd always wanted to punch, too. With a roar, he lunged for him, but before he could get even an inch across the room the guards' rugby-tackled him to the floor.

"Ah, you always did have a temper on you, eh Billy? Guess that's why you killed all those poor innocent people back in Africa."

Through gritted teeth, he ground out "Eddie…."

An unamused smile graced Eddie's lips. "It's Killbane, remember?"

"I don't give a _shit_ what you call yourself you son of a bitch. Why the hell are you here? Why the hell am I here? And above all else, how can I throw these goons off me, grab you and choke you to death?"

"Ha! Same old Coen. All bark, no bite."

"I'll show you bite-"

"Not now." Killbane drew a chair and sat down on it. "Now, are you gonna sit like a civilised man, or do I hafta have my boys here beat you half-way to death and throw in your cell 'til you cool off? And this time, no comforts. Just a dank cell, mouldy bread, and water 'til you're in a more co-operative mood."

Tensing, Billy considered his options. There was a lack of appeal to the second option, the greatest objection being another beating. Two, maybe three guys he could take, but not a full half-dozen. He didn't have a clue what was outside the boardroom as well. For all he knew, a death squad had guns pointed at the doorway, and he wasn't in a mood to find out. He'd play Eddie's game for now, and if he could get out and gut the bastard along the way, he'd take the chance. He too took a seat.

Killbane's grin grew wider. "Always knew you were a smart lad, Billy."

"Shut it. Start talking or I just might take you up on option two."

"Alright, alright, keep ya hair on, Coen." Shifting to a more comfortable position, Killbane fixed Billy with an appraising gleam in his eye/ "I'm here to offer you a job."

"What?"

"You heard me, a job. My superiors want you dead, and if it were anyone else, I'd have capped ya myself and left the body in that alley. But you, Bily….you're a special case. I mean, you did pretty well in Africa, all things considered, what with all the killings and stuff."

Billy snorted. "Am I supposed to be flattered by that, you ass?"

A deep laugh. "Oh, take it as a compliment. But seriously, listen to what I've got to say."

"I'm high up on the food chain in this joint. What I say goes 'cept when we're dealing with the people up top, so here's the deal; you join up with this outfit and you get an instant promotion to Lieutenant with all the benefits and the pay check. You'll have to work under me, but considering that you were under me before, it'd be a piece of cake for old habits to come back from the grave, right?"

"And if I refuse and try to make you choke on that smug grin of yours?"

Said grin stretched further. "Well, you'd die for sure, but there's a…insurance policy in place to make sure you take the contract."

"The hell that's supposed to mean?"

"Oh, yeah. Didn't mention that." Killbane made a great show of studying the folder in front of him. "Let me paint a picture for you."

"There's this guy in the Army, right, and he and his unit have been deployed to Africa to take out a guerrilla training ground, 'ecept they get thrown off c ourse by a bad-air drop. When they're in the jungle, most of the unit gets killed either by the heat or the enemy 'til he just wants something to shoot, something to make the guerrillas pay. So when what's left of the unit stumbles on a village that had the great misfortune to be mistaken for the training ground, he snaps. He kills twenty-three people before anyone can stop him. Innocents, Billy, can you believe it?"

"…"

"Not talking, huh? Well, sit back. The story's just getting started. Now, when he's court martialled back at base, they sentence him to death row and he's shipped off to Regathon Base to die. Problem is, the van's forced off the road and everybody's presumed dead including the prisoner. There's even a file reporting the whole thing by some sweet little S.T.A.R.S. officer an' all.

'_Get on with it, asshole…'_

"So yeah, life goes on. The whole Arklay thing, then Raccoon, then all this other shit, and that prisoner just vamooses from everybody's mind. 'Cept, he didn't die. Turns out he made a fake identity: William Cullen."

"So good 'ole Will drifts for a while, odd jobs here and there, and winds up working for Terrasave in their Security Division. Good gig, reasonable pay, get to go overseas, the whole shebang. And then Langshiang…"

"Will goes for his daily shift but doesn't report back in. His CO gets nervous, sends some guys to check out what happened to Cullen. They case the joint but don't find nothing. His quarters get searched, and this time they find something in his e-mail. Turns out Will was collaborating with some bio-terrorists, picking up some C virus from a drop point and getting out of the city before anyone noticed. So's they do a full background check, no stone left unturned, 'til they get a tip from Interpol that 'Will' wasn't even Will to begin with. It's Billy Coen, former death row inmate turned bio-terrorist, and he's been biding his time 'til he could get the goods and make some moolah, endangering the lives of potentially billions to satisfy his need for money and murder." Killbane leaned forward in his seat. "Like it so far?"

By now, Billy's blood was boiling with rage and frustration. If what Killbane said was true….then his masquerade was over. The world at large knew who he really was now and on top of his wrongful conviction, he had been branded a bio-terrorist, which meant that every government under the sun wanted his head. Worst of all, he was trapped, and he knew it.

Leaning back, Killbane regarded him with a critical eye. "You've only got two choices here, Billy. That whole story? All true. You've been set up as a bit of 'insurance' to ensure your co-operation with us, and if you still decide to spit on our faces, then that means we line you up against the wall and get it over with. The only way out of this pit is take me up on my offer. One-time deal only. You're good enough for that, but not beyond. It's your choice where the story ends."

With a sigh, Killbane rose from the chair. "So what's it to be? The sun's setting on your life, Billy, but there's still time to get in Apollo's chariot and drag that fucker back across the sky." He purposely strode over to the fuming Billy and offered his hand with a cruel smile.

"C'mon, won't you shake this poor sinner's hand?"

**(****)**

**5:37 PM, July 17****th****, 2013**

The beach was utterly deserted, devoid of all life except for shellfish, seabirds and himself.

Piers had spent the better part of the previous day lying in the shade, feeling his body recover from wounds that would have killed him outright had it not been for the virus in his system. The same virus that was his duty to destroy. He couldn't decide to laugh or scream at the irony.

After his body had healed over, scars fading and flesh knitting itself together again (a process that had disturbed and fascinated him), he'd started scouting out part of the island he was on. There were signs that it was inhabited or at the least had some human presence, though the soldier was leery of making contact with other humans considering his…condition.

Grimacing, he re-examined his new arm. The appendage had remained the same throughout his recovery but Piers swore that there was something lurking under the skin, another mutation that could make his situation even worse than it already was. Thin sparks of electricity occasionally spouted from the tips of his 'fingers', reacting to his agitation.

At least he still retained his mind, though the possibility of turning into a chrysalis and mutating in an even worse form was still around…

A splash caught his attention and he looked out to the beach. That B.O.W. was back, the dying rays of the sun reflecting off her wet form as she pulled herself onto the sand and Piers automatically tensed. For all he knew, she was back for a fight. Cautiously, he picked himself up, prepared to fend her off if need be.

She glanced at him, and he thought her lips twisted down in a frown before pointedly turned her back to him and looked out towards the sunset, staring intently at the horizon.

Slowly, Piers keyed down. She obviously wasn't there to attack him, and if he was being honest with himself, he felt rather ashamed of how he acted the previous morning. She'd saved his life for (apparently) no reason other than to save him and instead of thanking her, he'd simply walked off.

An apology would go a long way. Even if she brushed him off, he could at least say he tried.

Picking himself up, the newly minted B.O.W. strode over to the 'mermaid', whom made no move to greet him and kept her gaze on the horizon. Seating himself on the sand next to her, he briefly glanced at her and then looked to the half-set sun.

For a while, there was only the sound of the surf and seagulls.

"I'm sorry."

A faint quiver ran through her body, but still she did not look to him.

"You saved my life, and I didn't thank you for that." Piers paused, gathering his thoughts, then continued. "When I saw you, I panicked. I mean, you're…not something most people would expect to see. But you still saved my life, and that at least deserves a 'thank you'."

"So thank you for rescuing me. And I'm sorry that I walked off like I did."

He extended his hand. "My name's Piers Nivans. Nice to meet you."

Slowly, the 'mermaid' B.O.W. turned to face him, allowing Piers a glimpse of sea-green eyes and a large red scar similar to the one on her arm around her head. After a moment that felt like eternity, she smiled and clasped his hand with hers.

"R…ach…ael."


	4. Mondays', right?

The room was brightly lit and well furbished, with plush couches and glass coffee tables tastefully placed around it; a waiting room if there ever was one. Being told to wait like this…it didn't sit right with HUNK. Umbrella at least had been prompt in their debriefings (usually because _something _had the higher-ups chomping at the bit for the next operation) and even if he was forced to wait for the board to actually do something, there had been a shooting range or training mat available for use. These days he was stuck in a room that looked like it'd been furnished by an editor from a home décor magazine and told to 'read one of our up-to-date magazines'.

No thank you. He'd much rather lean against the wall and brood.

It'd been a changed world ever since Umbrella bit it, and HUNK was most profoundly aware of that sorry fact. The company had trained him, made him the best operative they could and HUNK had been loyal to them for that, no matter the unethical experiments they presided over; he had been useful to them, after all. He'd thought of himself as…valuable.

That had made their betrayal even worse.

The Raccoon Operation he could understand. If he'd taken the time to check that Birkin really had died, then the scientist wouldn't have infected himself with G and kick-started the chain of events that led to the destruction of Raccoon City, which in turn had implicated the company's involvement in the aforementioned destruction. Even HUNK himself had to agree that even if the primary objective had been completed, it had been a colossal fuck-up from beginning to end.

Rockfort had been a different matter. The 'Organisation' led by the traitorous Albert Wesker had bombed the training facility, which had released the t-Virus from one of the laboratories in the devastation. HUNK had merely been presiding over the transport of an unknown cargo from the Antarctic terminal to the island when the outbreak began. He'd rallied what men remained in the aftermath of the bombing and successfully escaped aboard one of the facility's cargo planes, at the cost of half his surviving forces. Despite the lack of other viable options, upper management believed that he should have retaken the condemned island rather than flee and promptly ordered his execution.

HUNK had not taken that well. Oh yes indeed, he had not taken that well.

After escaping the prison facility, he'd gone underground for a number of years, surviving on a list of independent contractors like his current employers. It was, he reflected, a system that never died out just expanded. Someone always wanted someone else killed quietly and professionally and they always approached people like him; the ones that had those qualities in vast quantities and didn't ask any irrelevant questions.

He'd also managed to re-establish contact Vector after the Raccoon Trials were finished. There were very few HUNK thought he could trust and depend on but his former student was at the top of that list. Sentimentality was weakness in his line of work but he could honestly say he was pleased that Vector had escaped Raccoon City before its destruction. To this day they kept in touch, exchanging intelligence whenever possible.

Their last communication had actually been before he'd arrived at the location his contractor had specified. HUNK had been mildly surprised that said location was a bunker located in the Chersky Mountain Range in Siberia but compared to some of the locations Umbrella chose for their facilities (the Arklay Mansion came to mind) it was sensible. Whatever was going on with this group was most likely not strictly legal, but again HUNK wasn't paid to inquire about the employer or their mission.

"Mr HUNK?"

The woman who had showed him into the room called out from behind her desk. "Your contractor will see you now."

The operative nodded once and walked to the door she pointed at. Crossing the threshold, he was immediately accosted by a pair of guards, both armed with machine pistols and eyeing him warily. "You'll have to forgive us," an unseen voice drawled in an English accent, "but you have to submit to a cursory search. One does not have someone of your skills sit down to talk with a weapon within reach."

The first guard promptly frisked him over. HUNK was utterly unconcerned. He had of course left some obvious weaponry on his person as a plant while inside his sleeves he had installed his hidden blades as a precaution. To be fair, his entire body was practically a weapon anyway but it was prudent to have something else to fall back on.

The guard passed over the TMP and combat knife to his compatriot. "He's clean," he stated through his mask as the second unloaded the gun and placed both weapons to the side. For some reason, the second made HUNK feel very uncomfortable, as if he knew him from somewhere. He had a feeling that behind the facemask he was smirking at him, a notion that only served to make him even more unsettled.

"Thank you for submitting to the search. We may now begin negotiations."

The darkened room brightened considerably, revealing the man sitting at the conference table. "Please sit," he motioned to the seat at the opposite end of the table.

"I would prefer to stand."

"If that is your wish." The man pulled some papers out of the folder before him. "Well done on the Caulder job by the way. A clean operation; the best kind of operation. The payment has been transferred to your private account. His passing was the end of your contract."

Good. Business was concluded. "I'll take my leave then," the ex-Umbrella operative nodded once and turned to the door.

"There is another…_lucrative_…target that might pique your interest,"

A pause. Then, "Speak."

Another pause, this time from the contactor. "I'm afraid that we cannot discuss the details of the mission unless the contact is accepted."

An odd stipulation, but one that was acceptable. "Very well," he said as he approached the table again. "I accept the contract. What are the parameters of the mission? Who is the target?"

The barrel of the TMP pressed against his head. "You are, Mr Death," an all too familiar voice gloated.

Biting back a curse, HUNK ground out the name of the man he'd hoped dead for over a decade.

"_Nikolai_."

**(****)**

Killbane's smile still hadn't lost that wicked edge, even nearly two decades later. "C'mon Billy, just extend your hand. Take me up on this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

Billy didn't have much of a choice here. The only thing he could do….

….was extend his hand.

With a smile, he looked his former superior right in the eyes and rocketed out of the chair, flooring him with a right hook to the jaw. Cursing, Killbane hit the floor hard but Billy had other things on his mind. Rushing one of the startled guards, he grappled with the hapless sod briefly before tearing the M4 out of his grasp. Smashing his face with the butt of the rifle, Billy quickly shot two of his compatriots and threw himself over an overturned desk, taking cover behind it when the rest of the squad got their bearings and started shooting.

Clutching his jaw, Killbane made a break for the door. "10k to the man who puts that's fucker down," he snarled as he passed the squad.

Billy wasn't going to let him get away. Leaning out of his cover, he briefly took aim and squeezed the trigger, aiming to take out the remainder of the squad and their commander. Unfortunately, his aim was slightly off thanks to his position and most of the bullets went wide. One got Killbane in the thigh and he shrieked, a terrible sound. Another man went down thanks to a bullet to the gut while the remaining two were unscathed. They laid down fire, intent on killing him, and Billy was forced back into cover. "Next time, Eddie!" he shouted as his former captain limped out the doorway.

**(****)**

Nikolai Ginovaef; a former Spetnanz and UBCS member and HUNK's so-called 'rival'.

Damn it all to hell. He was supposed to be dead.

"What the hell are you doing here, Ginovaef?"

A laugh escaped Nikolai's lips. "Oh, just my job, Mr Death."

"And that is?"

"Ah, but that would be telling, yes? Besides, that information would mean nothing to a dead man."

"One question: why?"

Nikolai sighed, almost tenderly. "It is because you are too much of a security risk for us to let you roam free. Who knows what damage you might do, even if you know only the smallest piece of the puzzle? Better we are all rid of you before it comes to that."

"You assume that you can kill me? Don't you remember, Ginovaef? The Death cannot die!"

"As far as last words go, those are somewhat lackluster." Cocking the Glock in his grip, Nikolai readied to shoot. "Do say hello to my men for me, would you?"

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, the sounds of muffled gunfire emitted from somewhere within the bunker. The noise briefly startled Nikolai, and that moment was all the time HUNK needed. Flicking out his blades, he stabbed Nikolai in the gut, earning a cry from the Russian, and ripped the handgun from him before he could shoot. In the same movement he grabbed his old rival in a chokehold and proceeded to use him as a human shield. The guards froze in the act of raising their weapons, unwilling to shoot their superior, and that was the opportunity HUNK needed to put a bullet through both their heads. "You were saying something?" he hissed into Nikolai's ear.

Even through the pain, Nikolai smiled. "Age hasn't slowed you down a bit, eh?"

HUNK's response was to try to break his neck. Unfortunately Nikolai was much too canny for that. Smashing a boot into his shin he proceeded to elbow HUNK in the gut, forcing him to release his grip. Hissing in frustration under his facemask, HUNK attempted to shoot Nikolai but at that moment the semi-forgotten contractor tackled him which threw his aim off. Throwing the man off, pausing for a moment to put a bullet through him, the operative turned back to Nikolai but he had already rushed out the door. The prompt siren of an alarm sounded, signifying that the whole base was now alert and out for his blood.

This did not overtly concern HUNK. There had been worse odds in the past and there would be in the future. Retrieving his TMP from the corpse of the security guards, he checked his corners before moving down the hallway.

"Beginning operation."

**(****)**

"_All units, find the prisoner and fuckin' gut him! I'm offering a promotion to the guy who bags Coen! No, no I gotta better idea. Bring 'im in alive. I want to pay him back personally for the leg! Both knees, ha! Ya hear that, ya motherfucker! I'll make you regret the day you crossed Captain Fuckin' Killbane, you fuck-"_

"God, do you EVER shut up?"

Things might be slightly going pear-shaped for Billy right now. After he fought his way out of the conference room, scavenging ammunition and grenades from the bodies, he'd tried to find the exit to the facility; a task easier said than done. He'd killed a number of personnel all gunning for his blood while running through the seemingly endless hallways, all coloured the same beige and blue.

Killbane's voice was also goddamn annoying and giving him a killer migraine.

"He's in here! This way!"

Cursing, Billy unloaded his acquired M4 into the fireteam that had just crossed his path. They went down in the hail of bullets but miraculously one emerged unscathed. Starting, he froze under Billy's hard-edged gaze. "P-please don't kill m-me," he whimpered, raising his arms in a gesture of surrender.

"What's your name?"

"Steve Haines, sir! I-I'm a security guard here at this facility."

"Alright, Steve. Where is 'here' exactly? And how the hell do I find the exit?"

"S-Siberia, sir! The exit's the way me and my team came from, but you need a key card to get the door leading to the upper floor open."

"Do you have a key card, Steve?"

"Y-yes, I do. I can get it out for you if you like."

"…alright. Slowly."

Haines slowly pulled a key card from a pocket on his combat vest. Tossing it at Billy's feet, he raised his arms again. "Okay, that's your ticket out. What are you going to do to me?"

Billy smiled at him, an unnerving sight. "Think about it, Steve. I run out of here with your key card and leave you here unharmed for your superiors to find. Now, they put two and two together and figure that you helped me some way, somehow. Who do you think they'll blame, huh?"

"Uh…me, sir."

"Exactly. Now since you did me a good turn, I'll do you one too to make sure that you don't get fired or demoted or, god forbid, killed 'cause you gave me my ticket out."

"Uh, very kind of you, sir."

"I'm gonna shoot you in the leg, 'kay?"

"What!?"

"Calm down, calm down. You'll heal up, and you get a plausible excuse about how I got my hands on the key card. Now, hold still-"

"Wait-"

"On the count of three, 1...2..."

BOOM

With a shriek Haines fell to the floor, clutching his leg and screaming profanities that would make a Licker cringe. Billy casually strode by his writhing form. "Pleasure doin' business, Steve," he snarked as he passed him by.

Upper level, huh? Simple enough…

**(****)**

"_All combat-ready personnel, this is Captain Ginovaef! We have a hostile making his way to the motor pool; do not let him escape! Be aware that the target is armed and extremely dangerous. I repeat, the target is armed and extremely dangerous-"_

HUNK's blade cleanly slit through the last hostile's throat. The woman choked on her own blood as she collapsed to the ground but she was spared no further attention. Currently, the situation was at a manageable level. The security teams were mostly well-trained but not to the extent HUNK had been, and as a result it was easy enough to cut through their numbers.

If this was all Nikolai could field, then escape was within reach. He'd previously made contact with the helicopter pilot he'd hired in the event of a foul-up with this group and pickup had been arranged. All he needed to do was access the motor pool located on the upper level and make his way to the evac point some distance away. A key card was required to get through the doors leading to the motor pool though, but he could -

A loud groan caught HUNK's attention. One of his previous victims evidently was still alive, surrounded by a pool of his own brilliant crimson blood. Walking over to the man, he stabbed downwards and put him out of his misery. As HUNK straightened up, he noticed something in the man's grasp. Prying it from him, HUNK realised that it was a blood-stained key card.

Huh. What a coincidence. No time to ponder it though.

Taking the time to activate his Stealth Camo once more, HUNK snuck through the passageway to the terminal. Sliding the key card into the waiting slot, he checked his corners before moving once more.

There was no more personnel around. That….boded. HUNK wasn't exactly sure _why _but it boded.

The same way Raccoon City had.

**(****)**

"Oh, geeze-louise, what the fuck is goin' on down there?!"

Killbane was in a foul mood. Coen was still alive, he'd been freakin' shot in the leg by the prick, and his men were dying team by team. They were replaceable, sure, but it took time to get warm bodies into positions and recruiting for a clandestine bio-weapon producing organisation wasn't easy at the best of times….

Wait…that gave him an idea.

"Hey, you!" he barked at the security officer who flinched at the harsh tone. Killbane was known for abusing subordinates when enraged. "Yes, sir?"

"What's the status on those B.O.W.'s we got in storage?"

"The, uh, Licker and Hunter units, sir?"

"Yeah, them. They ready for their test run?"

"Um, Production says the control chips were implanted but they haven't been tested yet. For all we know they could reject them and turn on us-"

"Do I look like I give a fuck about that? Coen needs to die, and you either send the order or I put a bullet through that poor excuse of a skull, got it?"

"…I'm sending the order now, sir."

"Good enough for me. Let's see how Coen likes THIS, the fucker."

Killbane's radio went off as he turned to his control terminal. _"Pryor," _Nikolai's voice hissed into his ear, _"what is the situation on your end?"_

"Keep ya panties on, Ginovaef. I got a little surprise for our 'guests'."

"_What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?"_

"Simply put; I'm letting the B.O.W.'s out. Let's see what kinda hell Production can cook up eh?"

"_It's against protocol to release any bio-weapons, especially untested ones! Stop these madness before you expose us needlessly! Coen and HUNK-"_

"Will die here and now."

And with those parting words, Killbane cut the feed, grinning like a madman as he watched the B.O.W.'s emerged with shrieks and roars from their pods, ready to kill.

Oh, this was gonna be _good_.

**(****)**

There was a security room approximately three rooms away. Once the remaining security systems (alarms, cameras, etc.) were disabled, the motor-pool would be easier to access which in turn would mean escapes. The only known outside variables would be the remaining security personnel, but they would be dealt with accordingly.

So why the _hell _did HUNK feel like some unidentified intruder had strolled over his unmarked grave?

One hundred meters from his objective he froze.

Another hostile. One man; easy enough to deal with. Sliding into the shadows, he awaited this latest obstacle.

He didn't have to wait long.

Dressed in civilian clothing with long hair. Armed with M4 assault rifle and unidentified sidearm; most likely looted from dead personnel. Probable conclusion: liberated prisoner, a plant sent to lower his guard, or a just an enemy out of uniform.

No matter. He would die here and now.

**(****)**

Steve had been a man of his word; the keycard had worked like a charm. After making his way through the security doors, Billy had started searching for the security room. Assuming that there was one on the floor, he'd get access to the cameras which would be essential in finding the way out and plotting out the route of least resistance; the less enemy fire he had to deal with the better.

Something felt off about this place. You'd think that there'd be more security staff on a restricted level, but oddly Billy hadn't had a single encounter with anyone since he passed through the doors leading here.

'_Come on, Billy. Just a little more and you're a free man.' _

There…there was something. Something dangerous, and the instincts that had seen him through his life so far screamed '_dodge!'_

As he lunged sideways a knife sprang out from the shadows, aimed for his neck. On reflex he tried to aim his rifle at his would-be-killer but whoever it was too quick, charging him before he could properly fix him in his sights. The attacker's shoulder charge pushed him back and forced the assault rifle out of his hands.

Great. Now he was weaponless.

The black-clad hostile tried using his knife again but Billy was ready this time. Catching his wrist before he could complete the blow, the former marine kicked him the chest and pushed him backwards. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Billy then punched his briefly-stunned enemy and sent him sprawling. The resultant impact with the ground knocked a sub-machine gun from his holster which Billy scooped up immediately, aiming it at his prone adversary.

The figure stayed stock still for a brief moment and then vanished to Billy's shock. _'Stealth camo,'_ he thought darkly. He didn't have the luxury of thermal goggles at the moment, so he had to keep his wits about him.

"Come out, you sonavabitch!"

**(****)**

Unfortunate.

His adversary proved to be more skilled than HUNK had anticipated. He had been disarmed of his firearm though he still had his blades and stealth camouflage ready. The real question was if he could stab the enemy or otherwise incapacitate him without getting shot himself.

The soldier was wary and training the TMP everywhere, his movements precise and controlled. Grudgingly, HUNK approved of this. He would have gone far with the right tutelage in Umbrella.

Ah well. A thought for another day.

The discarded M4 was lying on the ground near the soldier. If he could get it and draw quicker than his opponent, then victory would be assured. A distraction was needed to ensure that success. Drawing one of his blades, HUNK threw it in the opposite direction. The resultant noise drew the soldier's attention, which was all the opportunity he needed.

Rushing to the fallen rifle, he scooped it up and aimed. Cursing under his breath, HUNK realised that the soldier was levelling the TMP at him too. The distraction didn't pay off like he'd hoped.

Two fingers. Two triggers.

A stand-off.

And that was the moment the B.O.W.'s showed up.


	5. On the Move

Shrieking at the sight of fresh prey, the assorted Hunters and Lickers stormed into the corridor. As one, HUNK and Billy instinctively moved, back-to-back, and pulled their triggers. Bullets smashed into the creatures and those at the front of the pack went down and lay twitching in their own blood. The rest charged on, trampling their brethren under their claws, but the duo kept up the fire, downing even more of them…right up until the ammo ran out.

As soon as the triggers clicked, a Hunter lunged for HUNK and was summarily booted by a rifle butt to the face. It barely had time to hiss in frustration before the mercenary gored it through the eye with his blade. At his back, Billy smashed his opponent, a Licker, backwards with a kick to the chest before pulling out his 'appropriated' sidearm. The 9mm rounds shredded through the cranium of the B.O.W., splattering the floor with blood and brain matter. Screaming their hate, the remaining creatures surged forward, eager to feed on their prey.

After a few minutes of screams, bullets, blades, and an ever increasing kill count, the ranks of the enemy thinned and soon ceased to be. In the centre of the bloodbath, the duo stood, weapons still drawn and bodies tense, straining their hearing to the limits. After a half-minute of listening to their own breathing without the telling _click-clack_ of claws on the floor (or the walls or the ceiling), they minutely relaxed before they both realised just _who _was at their back.

Billy still had a round left in the clip but HUNK still had his blades in his hands. There'd be no clear victor here and this time they could very well end up killing the other. A double whammy, as it were.

HUNK tensed…and then spoke. "You fight well," he complimented.

Billy gave a shallow nod. "Right back at you."

The black-clad special agent jerked his head at the B.O.W.'s. "It appears my enemy is willing to go to all lengths to kill me." He cocked his head, giving Billy an unseen critical once-over. "I assume that they are trying to kill you too?"

Another nod. "Uh-huh."

"Then in the interest of mutual survival, I extend the offer of a truce." HUNK sheathed his blades, making sure that they were still 'on hand' as it were, and turned to face Billy face-to face. "We extricate ourselves from this facility and make our way to my pre-arranged extraction point thirty klicks from this facility. After our escape, our association will end and we will go our separate ways."

The former lieutenant's eyes met the red lenses of the face-mask evenly. "And how do I know that you won't just stab me in the back and leave me to bleed out once our 'association' ends?"

HUNK kept his gaze level, not letting his body language show how irritated he was at the question. "You have my word," he snapped back.

"Yeah, well," Billy shook his head before extending his weaponless hand. "How's about shaking on it, if you're a 'man of your word'?"

HUNK eyed the outstretched hand, then the pistol still held in Billy's grip. _It could be a trap,_ his training warned him. _He wants you to lower your guard and then he will kill you._

But against his better judgement, HUNK clasped hands with his newfound ally.

Billy's lips curled into a smile. "Billy Coen."

"….Human Unit Never Killed. HUNK for short."

"…your real name, pal."

"….John Doe."

"…feh, y'know what? Forget it." Shaking his head in exasperation, Billy handed the TMP back to HUNK and bent to retrieve the M4 off the floor. "So, you got a plan on exactly how we get out of here, Johnny-Boy?"

Suppressing a flash of hot irritation again, HUNK spoke aloud, "We are near the entrance to the facility. There is a motor pool just outside it where we will acquire a transport. Following our acquisition, we'll reach the LZ and escape." The agent motioned to the security room. "Shutting down the remaining security systems will make our exit substantially easier. We should find you some protection from the elements too."

"Why?"

"Because we're in Siberia and currently temperatures outside are below freezing. I doubt you have any wish to catch frostbite."

"Wait, we're in _Siberia_!?"

**(****)**

Cursing as the medic treated his gut wound, Captain Ginovaef went over the events of the last hour in his mind.

He was not having a good day. His attempted murder of a long-time rival had failed, a high-level prisoner had escaped confinement thanks to his incompetent colleague, and said colleague had released untested and uncontrolled B.O.W.'s to kill both the former, utterly ignoring the protocols laid down by their superiors. Ginovaef himself had…interpreted…his orders with some leeway during his tenure with the UBCS but not to the same extent as Pryor.

Now the monsters ran free, and the good news was that most of them had followed Pryor's order, such as it was.

The bad news was that some hadn't.

His radio flared to life. _"Commander Ginovaef!"_

"I hear you, soldier. What's the situation?"

"_There's a Hunter prowling around Lab 4. Looks like it got some of the scientists, poor bastards. My man on Floor 3 says there's evidence of a few Lickers running around too. Don't know if there's any other nasties around but I've got guys checking in person and on camera. We'll get everything secured but, well, with the casualties from the escapees we don't have enough personnel to confront them and secure the rest of the facility."_

There were only two options available to him: regroup the remaining security fireteams and either send them to assault Coen and HUNK or have them flush out and kill the uncontrolled bioweapons.

The first would mean that two possible threats (and Nikolai was inclined to think that HUNK, at least, was a greater threat than any one man had any right to be) would be eliminated and the truth would be suppressed. Pryor may have falsified Coen's link to bioterrorism but he was willing to bet that the ex-lieutenant wouldn't take that lying down. He'd find a way to shake Neo-Veltro's deception with HUNK's help and then their entire organisation would come crashing down and he'd be out of a job and quite possibly imprisoned or dead. Nikolai's instincts told him that he needed to have them eliminated.

But…

If he left the bioweapons alone to run free, there'd be hell to pay. The facility itself was staffed with a number of high-level scientists, each of them experts in their own fields. They'd be slaughtered by the B.O.W.'s in droves, and the Council would be incensed at their deaths. An even worse scenario was the B.O.W.'s escaping into the Siberian wilderness and wreaking havoc throughout the countryside. If that happened, then the B.S.A.A would be called in and they could very well discover their operations within Siberia's borders.

That was an infinitely worse possibility.

Growling like a bear, Nikolai spoke into his radio. "Secure the facility. Coen and HUNK will be dealt with at a later date."

"_You got it, sir."_

Cutting the communication, Nikolai stormed over the terminal in the room, shoving off the protesting medic as he did. Swiping his security pass over the scanner, he browsed for the production manifest. It would be prudent to find out what exactly-

_SECURITY CLEARENCE: WHITE – CAPTAIN GINOVAEF_

_ACCESS CONFIRMED_

_FILE FOUND_

_B.O.W. Production Manifest – August 25__th__, Siberian Facility _

_30 X LICKERS – CONTROL CHIPS STILL TO BE TESTED. DO NOT ACTIVATE._

_10 X HUNTERS – CONTROL CHIPS STILL TO BE TESTED. DO NOT ACTIVATE._

_1 X TYRANT – CONTROL CHIP MALFUNCTION. B.O.W. UNRESPONSIVE TO COMMANDS AND FRIEND-OR-FOE IDENTIFICATION NON-EXISTANT. MARKED FOR DISPOSAL: DO NOT ACTIVATE UNDER __**ANY **__CIRCUMSTANCES._

Well, shit.

**(****)**

Plugging his SPECTRE-TECH palmtop into the bank of computer terminals, HUNK immediately pressed a pre-set activation key. The device began tearing through the firewalls on the system, extracting what information it could from the database and leaving behind some specifically tailored viruses. When Ginovaef or whomever else attempted to access the data, the viruses would detonate and begin corrupting the system from the inside out. They'd be able to scrub the system clean…eventually...but HUNK would have what he needed.

"Yo, Johnny-boy! Any luck with those security doors?"

Biting down the urge to slit Coen's throat, HUNK briskly shook his head. "I just need to find the right – there." Tapping away at the keyboard, HUNK brought up the security feed to the main screen. "There are the doors; they should be able to - dammit!"

"Oh, what's it now?"

Grunting, HUNK turned his attention back to the soldier. "We can't get out," he spat, his irritation colouring his tone. "The doors aren't responding to the activation codes; my assumption is that either Ginovaef has locked down the bunker to prevent our escape…"

"Or?"

"Or they locked it down to prevent something else from getting out."

"…well, isn't that just peachy?" Huffing, Billy peered out into the empty hallway. "So what's plan B? I'm getting kinda tetchy just standing here, y'know?"

"There's a supply room here." HUNK brought up a map of the complex and highlighted the room in question, four corridors away. "It doubles as an armoury, so there is ammunition, winter gear, and explosives in fair supply-"

"So we're blasting our way out?"

"Affirmative. It's the only option we have. If you can secure what we need-"

"Wait, me? What about you, Mister Never Killed?"

HUNK curtly pointed at the palmtop. "I need to stay here to ensure the data transfer goes through. If I'm successful, then we'll have the information necessary to expose or cripple our mutual adversary. From what I've seen of your combat skills, you can easily acquire the required equipment and make it back here." Reaching into a hidden compartment, HUNK handed Billy an earpiece. "Take this; it's patched directly into my radio. I'll update you on any hostiles or complications you may run into. Also," he reached into another compartment and pulled out two clips of handgun ammo. "You'll need these more than I will."

"Uh, thanks but are you sure?"

"I have a full magazine already loaded in my sidearm and I am proficient with my knives. I'll be fine here. Now go! There's no telling how much time we have left!"

"Alright, alright. I'm going, I'm going" Before passing over the threshold Billy turned to look HUNK straight in the eye. "Good luck."

"….same to you."

**(*****)**

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Good work, boys," the lieutenant nodded before switching on his radio. "Captain Ginovaef, we have secured Lab 4 and all hostiles have been eliminated. Please advise on our next move, over."

_Bzz-ktt!_

"Captain Ginovaef, Sir?" Shaking his head in disgust, the lieutenant turned the radio off. "Of all the times for an equipment malfunction-"

_BLAM!_

"What in blue blazes was-"

"Oh, shit! Sir, behind you!"

"Wha-arrgghh!"

_Sktch-crunch!_

"Shit, shit, SHIT! Open fire! OPEN FIRE!"

"_Attention all units, Captain Ginovaef speaking! We have an uncontrolled Tyrant loose in the bunker! Containment Plan B is now in effect! All civilian personnel are to make their way to the designated safe zones. All security personnel, form into your Crisis Mobilisation Teams if possible. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill!"_

**(*****)**

"Sir, I need you to sit down-"

"What the hell for? It's just a fuckin' graze, for Christ's sake!"

"It's a graze that's liable to get infected or worse if you keep trying to keep up. Now either sit down on that bench or so help me, I will strap you to a medical berth!"

Sneering at the suddenly uppity medic, Killbane nevertheless acquiesced to the demand. Despite his bluster, he knew that staying on his leg would be detrimental in the long run. Grunting in relief, he absentmindedly rubbed the bandaged wound. Goddamn Billy fuckin' Coen. He hoped the B.O.W.'s were chewing on his bone marrow right now. Least the fucker deserved.

A shout from the hallway grabbed his attention. "The hell?"

Cursing up a storm, Nicolai burst into the room. Eyes burning with anger, he strode across the room and struck Killbane right across the jaw.

"The fuck!?"

"You _durak_!" Snarling, Nikolai switched his gaze to the frozen medic. "Grab your gear and your staff; we're moving to the panic rooms."

"But why-"

"Do as you're told or so help me, I will leave you behind to be torn limb-from-limb by the currently rampaging Tyrant whilst still alive. Are we clear, soldier?" Trembling with fear, the medic nodded frantically and hurried away from the fuming captain. Said Russian took a deep breath and turned back to his stunned compatriot. "Get moving, Pryor. As it is, I'm inclined to leave you behind."

Growling like a bear, Killbane pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the lance of pain that shot up his leg. "The fuck's up with your head, Ginovaef!?"

"What's 'up' with my head is that you've successfully taken an already bad situation and just made monumentally worse!" Punching the wall in frustration, Nikolai looked Killbane right in the eye. "Your little stunt with the bioweapons has cost us more lives than I care to count right now. On top of that, we have no chance of re-apprehending either Coen or HUNK now!"

"What!? The goddamn bioweapons-"

"Are malfunctioning and wreaking havoc around the bunker! That Tyrant I mentioned? It's killing everything in its path!"

"Well, if it kills those fuckers too-"

"This isn't about them anymore, Pryor! I've pulled the men back; there's no point wasting more lives on a fruitless endeavour that'll just get more of them killed."

"NO!" Killbane's expression warped into one of molten fury. "We can't let 'em get away, Ginovaef. If they do, we're through!"

"I know that, Pryor, but we don't have a choice! The Five will learn about this; there's no way in hell they won't! Our necks will be on the chopping board if we don't save our people first. If we're lucky, then the Tyrant will kill them too; if not, then the cover story we put in place to discredit Coen will prevent either of them from reaching out to the authorities; HUNK himself is still on the BSAA's most wanted list, after all." Waving off Killbane's next protest, Nikolai headed for the door. "Shape up or ship out, Pryor." He paused at the door and gave a look of pure contempt to his colleague. "And be aware that the Council will be receiving a full report from me about this insanity."

**(*****)**

"Coen? Have you reached your objective?"

"_Yeah, I made it. Got the explosives and the winter gear here. Grabbed some guns and ammo too. Think we're gonna need 'em." _

"Very good. I will finish my download and meet you at the doors shortly."

"_Great, 'cept there's one thing that's bothering me. Where are all the guards? I mean, one minute I had a pair of 'em shooting at me and the next they'd bugged out. What's that all about?"_

"Hmph. I doubt it is any consequence. Wait, there's-"

"_Hey, man!? Don't cut out on me like that! What's going on?"_

"The situation's changed. Get to the doors as fast as you can and set up the explosives. I'll catch you there."

_WARNING: DOWNLOAD INCOMPLETE. CHANCE OF FILE CORRUPTION: 96%_

"4%? That will have to do."

_DOWNLOAD ABORTED._

"_Uh, not to be a pain or anything but it's usually a good idea to explain to the guy helping you on your escape plan what the hell's going on." _

"You want to know, Coen? Very well…:

RAUGHHHH!

"It appears that the odds have just been evened."


	6. Dossiers - Neo-Veltro Captains (1)

_ACCESSING NEO-VELTRO DATABASE…_

_SECURITY CLEARENCE – WHITE _

_RETRIEVING FILES…._

_NEO-VELTRO DOSSIER FILES FOUND. DISPLAYING ON-SCREEN._

**NAME: **Nikolai Ginovaef/_Vladimir Zinoviev (false identity)_

**D.O.B: **19/11/1963

**GROUP AFFILATION: **Neo-Veltro (Captain), ex-Russian Army, ex-Spetsnaz, ex-Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service (UBCS, Sergeant)

**STATUS: **Active

**HISTORY: **Born to Alexander &amp; Natalia Ginovaef in 1963, Ginovaef spent his formative years in the city of Moscow. His family struggled for money, which seems to have influenced his adult life. When he reached the appropriate age, the young Ginovaef joined the Russian Army and quickly rose through the ranks thanks to his natural ability, gift of command, charisma, and ruthless extermination of rivals either by fair means or (most likely) foul. By the time he reached his twenty-third birthday, he had been selected to join the Spetsnaz, an achievement that was dampened by the passing of his parents in a house fire.

With the dissolution of the Soviet Union, Ginovaef was left jobless. When the Umbrella Corporation extended an offer to join their paramilitary forces, he accepted alongside a number of other ex-Soviet soldiers. However, Ginovaef was personally headhunted by the 'Monitors', Umbrella's covert internal espionage network thanks to his career in the Spetsnaz. While he served in the UBCS officially, he secretly gathered information of any dissidents or potential traitors inside the Delta Platoon in exchange for a monthly monetary reward whilst continuing his recording of B.O.W. combat data observed during the clandestine operations the platoon undertook.

After his involvement in the Raccoon City Outbreak, in which he retrieved a large cache of combat data before escaping the city's destruction, Ginovaef faded into the background. This proved to be a saving grace; when the Raccoon Trials began in earnest, he successfully disappeared and began a new life as a mercenary for hire under the assumed identity 'Vladimir Zinoviev'. After a number of years of on-and-off contracts, Ginovaef was approached by Neo-Veltro in early 2008 to serve in the security forces thanks to his skills and experience. After accepting the offer, Ginovaef was put in charge of recruiting and training new personnel and overseeing bioweapon containment procedures.

**PERSONAL NOTES (TAKEN FROM THE DESK OF THE COUNCIL)**

Ginovaef's greatest flaw is his greed. The man simply will do anything (barring a few jobs that even professional Spetsnaz would balk at) for a pay check. It is assumed that he does not care to spend it; rather, he prefers to simply hoard it in his numerous bank accounts, presumably for retirement. This flaw is easy to exploit, as a steady flow of stable income ensures his loyalties stay with Neo-Veltro. As insurance, his criminal past working for Umbrella along with numerous other crimes committed as Vladimir Zinoviev has been compiled into a data package, ready to send to multiple governmental agencies worldwide including the CIA and SVR should he prove traitorous.

It has been noted that Ginovaef displays sadistic tendencies, such as his collection of combat data during the Raccoon City Incident, where he left members of the UBCS to die at the hands of B.O.W.'s. During the same operation, he attempted (and succeeded) at killing the other Monitors inside the city to gain a monopoly on the bioweapon combat data. It is assumed that if he is not given precise instructions then he chooses to interpret orders in very broad strokes. Despite this, the man is a competent (if gruff) leader and is suitable for command. (Addendum: it has come to the Council's attention that Ginovaef has some personal history with former Umbrella Security Service (USS) Agent HUNK (Human Unit Never Killed). More information on this topic is pending.)

**NAME: **Edward 'Killbane' Pryor

**D.O.B: **20/05/1972

**GROUP AFFILIATION: **Neo-Veltro, ex-U.S. Marines (Captain)

**STATUS: **Active

**HISTORY: **A Steelport native, Pryor enlisted in the U.S. Marines right out of high-school. Serving with distinction, he was promoted to the rank of Captain as a Non-Commissioned Officer (NCO) after a decade of service. His first mission as Captain was the ill-fated 'Operation: Flush-Out' where his unit was sent to eliminate a supposed guerrilla training ground in Africa. The mission was a disaster from beginning to end; the air-drop was off-target which meant that they had to cross miles of hostile territory to reach the target objective. Losing the majority of his men to both the guerrillas and the sweltering heat, Pryor's unit (now reduced to four: himself, Billy Coen, and two others) reached the objective only to discover that it was no training ground. Rather, it was a simple village filled with civilians. Pryor, driven to near-madness by the conditions he had endured and thirsting for revenge, ordered the deaths of the villagers. Billy Coen was the only one to protest the slaughter; the other survivors did not. After restraining Coen, they proceeded to gun down the villagers and placed the blame on Coen. Pryor in particular claimed 'one marine panicked under the extreme conditions and unintentionally killed the civilians'. The base commander accepted the testimonies and sentenced Coen to capital punishment.

Afterwards, Pryor continued to serve with the Marines, though the stigma of 'Flush-Out' followed him for years afterward. Passed up for promotion multiple times, Pryor began to crack from what he perceived as discrimination from his superiors, taking his frustrations out on his men with verbal and physical abuse. His worsening temper issues led to official reprimands and eventually a dishonourable discharge in 2006. Incensed, Pryor rejected civilian life and went at it alone as a mercenary for hire. In 2010, he was approached by Neo-Veltro recruitment personnel as a candidate for the position of Captain.

**PERSONAL NOTES (TAKEN FROM THE DESK OF THE COUNCIL)**

As an asset, Pryor is both high-risk/high-reward. On one hand, he is a competent officer who excels at leading from the front and his joking, jovial manner easily allows him to break the ice between himself and his men. On the other, his temper is volatile and he has problems thinking forward when it comes to long-term planning. As such, he is barely involved in the intricacies of Neo-Veltro's greater plan with a notable exception being his (entirely self-made) scheme involving Billy Coen.

Pryor seems to have picked up the moniker of 'Killbane' during his time with the Marines. Supposedly, he earned it for consistently having the highest killcount on every mission he participated in. He likes the name so much that he prefers to be referred to as 'Killbane' over Pryor or Edward (he especially dislikes being referred to as 'Eddie'). Pryor does consent to his real name being used by either his superiors or those of equal rank, evidently deciding that it's more trouble than it's worth to protest.

Pryor has an unhealthy obsession with Luchador wrestling, which has likely influenced his showmanship and ego. Despite his quirks and temper, he has also shown a depth of intelligence (such as his aforementioned plan and occasional references to history and mythology).

The Council is aware of the truth behind Operation: Flush-Out and as with Captain Ginovaef we are prepared to inform the CIA of his crime should he prove traitorous.

_EXITING NEO-VELTRO DATABASE…_

_LOGGING OUT._


End file.
